Piss Off, Proffesor Potter
by MessersSpideyTapp
Summary: JL. It's been two years or so since James graduated from Hogwarts. However, desperation,hunger and a pleading Dumbledore cause him to return, this time as a teacher.We'll see how long he can live with his sexual frustration.
1. Bleeding Hell, I'm Pitiful

**Oh Bleeding Hell, I'm Pitiful**

**AN: This is quite different from my usual , for one , it's teeming with male perspective (meaning perversity) for another, it's slightly AU. But you can forgive that, since James is so damn…desirable in this story! Anyhow, here it is:**

**Oh, M'excuser! I 'ave forgotten mon disclaimer:**

**Joan does not speak French , and neither do I . However , that does not mean we are the same person. She owns the characters, I own the plot. It's as simple as that.**

**(Psst! Ignoramuses!) **

My morning problem could be solved (during my schooling years) by a simple turn of the head. There , beside me , would be another beautiful peroxide blond eager to jump on my nob. Who was I to complain? I was Merlin. In a matter of speaking, of course , I highly doubt the many bedside buddies I gathered over the years would've been content with a corpse dressed in sapphire robes.

I remember the darlings with masterful engorgement charms placed on their bosoms for my enjoyment, I remember they use to do it every day. Along with the Marauders , I imagine we were the most sought-after men in the whole of the Wizarding world.

My morning problem these days could never be solved however , with the aging toothless squib I'd picked up in the _Hogs Head_ last night , for she could barely provide for her nineteen sons. Yes , THE James Potter , had been desperate enough to shag a wrinkling squib with more vigor than the runaway witch that had been present the night before. I figure I don't have a problem , just a larger junior head than most.

Either way , I am still unemployed. I don't exactly know how that came about. One day I was sighed on to be the star chaser of the Chudley Cannons, the next minute , I was celebrating with bleached blonds, turd-colored brunettes and any female genitalia I ran into, literally. I blame it on the opium Sirius forced…alright , _encouraged_ me to experiment with. Supposedly it made me hallucinate , the fact of the matter is all I saw were abnormally sized vaginas and mounds of nipples.

I promise you , the front page of the _Daily Prophet _ was not covered with picture of me shagging the brains off of minors nor transvestites. The negatives were purchased at a dear and costly price. However, this did not change the outcome of my escapade.

I was fired . I believe it is safe to say that my career was the shortest of the extensive history of Quidditch, having only lasted a couple of hours after the contracts were finalized.

That was three months ago, when I still had hopes and galleon-gathering schemes.

Apparently, your criminal records is a very public document. It was also imperative that it be gleaming with cleanliness and as virginal as an embryo. In other words , it mattered that I had been persecuted on drug possession (both wizard and muggle) some three times, charged with wand exhibition toward minor muggles, and finally ,accused of sexually insinuating behavior towards a Ministry official under the influence of wizard alcoholic beverages. It was quite an impressive record, but my future employers never fully appreciated that. Though they did occasionally inquire about the events, occasions in which I would sniff the air angrily and name them 'Arse-wiping twats' and snatch yet another copy of my notorious record from their hands.

My account at Gringotts was rapidly withering into the cracks , and my parents refused to provide me with that heavenly substance , regardless of the fact that they were bursting with galleons and that I was their only son. According to my father, the negatives he'd purchased had been degrading (as well as amusing , I thought) and as far as he was concerned , utterly disappointing. His solution was ignoring my pleads and barking instructions to find a respectable job. Honestly, I didn't have the heart ( or the testicles , I'm ashamed to say) to tell him that every location in need of willing assistance in the United Kingdom had a copy of my rather illustrious criminal record.

So here I am , grimacing because the squib just cracked a smile from within the blankets and I know , I've sunk too low. I know a portion of my brain had found her somewhat attractive , especially after she'd jokingly offered to pay me. But really , I can smell her sweat from here. It smells like a pubescent orangutan , and adolescent monkey-cousins smell horrid.

I need a shot, both alcoholic and deadly.

"G'morning, luv. Care for round three?" he cheeks crinkled , the glamour charm placed over them fading slightly.

I cringed. "Are you going to pay me or not?" I spat. She looked at me inquiringly.

"Rather thought that was your job, sweetums," she smiled , her tongue darting to a loosely hanging tooth.

"What?" I asked .

She narrowed her eyes , "Don't play stupid with me, lovey. It's twelve Sickles a pop. So that's twenty-four , luv. I'm quite able at arithmetic"

So, I lost my nutrition currency to a very disgruntled and grotesque squib prostitute (whom was very accomplished in self-defense, I might add).

" Now bugger off, woman!"

"Gladly, luv." She smiled disgustingly, jiggling her purse intentionally and blowing me a stench-ample kiss.

I scoffed , slamming the door to my tiny room above the Leaky Cauldron. I heard her laugh outrageously in triumph . I bet I was the only shite-face that ever paid her buggered _and_ sagging arse. But I'm a gentleman, what can I tell you?

However, since my ego is quite sensitive and violent when prodded, I opened the door again, demanding loudly ,

" 'Choo laughing at , wench?"

She smiled slyly , her eyes dancing with malignant delight, " You, luv."

I admit I must've acted very rashly. But that fact does not by any means suggest I regret doing it.

Forget magic, I slapped her , harder than any man I might've previously slapped for reasons concerning me feeling a feminine release, I loosened that hanging tooth from her gums and it made a sound like twinkling glass when it shattered on the floor. Nothing could have given me more pleasure, unless I had stolen her purse.

Which I did, my fingers moving as quick as a premature ejaculator, (however , now that I rethink it , perhaps not so swiftly). Then I again slammed the door in her elderly mug.

In my room , I quickly gathered my belongings (which had withered considerably, due to my unfortunate need for food), because I could hear that wench wailing and bawling about a thief sexually harassing her. Such bollocks the deformed can think of these days.

I snorted , muttering about my need for free , healthy and willing birds , then apparated.

**An: I'll give you condoms if you review.**

**Hey, at least it's better than all this 'cookies' bollocks, this way you'll be given something useful, safe , and impossible to acquire from your parents.**

**Toodles! **


	2. Pride and PrPRONGS!

**Pride and Pr—PRONGS! **

**Hey. Spidey here. (God I sound like Peter Parker) Another chap. I'm writing more cuz I'm finishing my other story. Check it out. No _REALLY._—press blade onto belly—meh. I have a violent virtual personality.**

It's a matter of natural selection who survives in this world or disappears eternally. This process depends on the strength and intelligence of the organism in question. I know this fact, however, that by no means suggests that _I _posses intelligence or emasculate strength, which is heartbreaking, really.

Then they say I'm arrogant , but can you not see my modesty? Smell it's thick and sickly sweet aroma that completely overwhelms the bitter underlying sarcasm? For , of course I am not the wittiest , but I can bet you my father has connections with him. And , although I am not the strongest , it is the reason why I carry a twelve inch ebony stick in my pocket.

It's my _WAND_ you perverse excuse for an animal!

So that makes me the stronger species, bastards. Watch your silk-swabbed bottoms for I am whipping them! Protect your hanging testes, for I will impale them onto the correct location! Look out Wizarding world , James Potter is surviving and ready to watch you GROVEL AT HIS HOLY TOES!—

Heh. Perhaps I should cease this euphoric mental rant. I know I am surviving , but it seems that _ EVERY BLEEDING _ Knockturn Alley drunken and _MASSIVE_ barman has decided to wobble and screech in tones of varying Helium-induced sopranos in my direction.

"Here comes yer—hic—bride , Here—hic—'ere come 'er bride, and uh , come to Jamai—hic—Jamaica and feel—hic—BLOODY SLOSHED!"

"Hehehehahahaheheheahhaa…Oh, BUGGER!"

"What 'appned—hic—Georgiiiiii?"

"I've Pissed on meself!"

" Aga—hic—in?"

"Yes!"

"Ish alright mate, don't cry! We'll er, dry the—hic—bastards again!"

Foine. You've caught me. Oh-Bloody-Whoop for your victorious arse, for the GREAT James Potter has lied…again…repeatedly. So the celebrating bachelors aren't barmen, though they _are _wobbling, and they weren't_ MASSIVE_ per-se, just rather large.

" Oi! Georgiiiiii—hic—iiii!"

"Yeah?"

"Stop pissing—hic—on that—hic—small lass!"

"Oh! I'll just move along then?"

"Oi! Georgiiiiiiii—"

"What?"

"There's a _massi_—hic—_ve _bugger up 'ead"

I saw that the teeny bastards were staring at me , or at least that one with the kilt was , the other was busy apologizing to the moving poster for_ BURSTING BUBBLES GUM_ ,whom was , shall I say…more than a bit vexed.

Being a man of my maturtite—oh bugger, what's the word? Maturute—maturitire? Matur—maturity! _Bloody hell_, my brilliance is great in times of need! Did I say I was modest? Heh, well, what can I say? I'm English that gives me enough reason to lord over all you punks! You should be grateful I haven't incinerated you! Though I admit, I lied. Shamefaced, mind you. Oh, fuck you! That's what I do, alright?

As I was saying, being a man of my _maturity _( Using these words give you a rather tall and…powerful feeling (not that I don't always feel that way)), simply smiled socially and exclaimed

"RUN YOU DRUNKEN TWAT-SNIFFERS, DEATH EATERS!"

"NOOOoooooo—hic—oooo! Georgiiiiiii, Death—hic—Eaters!"

"I Shtill don't believe 'im."

"Fo—hic—ool!"

"What if hish lying, Patrick? Then we'd look lik—"

"OOOUCHHHH, PAIN! OH EXCRUCIATING PAIN!"

"LESH GOOO!"

Ha.Ha.HA. Always bloody works, it's like a damn mangle-proof technique, if I'm ever feeling generous, (highly unlikely) remind me to teach it to you , and I might consider it.

Now all I have to do is get out of this dodgy place. With _my_ luck , I'll run into a randy Snape, and have to shove my wand up his—left nostril. Merlin knows it's big enough, and so do I. How does it feel to know someone as brilliant and more sexually active than the most, err, brilliant wizard of all time? Overwhelming, isn't it? That's how I felt after my first shag; she had to kiss my feet and all that hogwash (part of the ritual , you know. Since she felt so honored). Very entertaining.

First I must locate my purse. Odd phrase….nevertheless, the handsome James Potter has to be on his way _out_! Purse…purse….back pockets , robe pockets….undies…knickers

( They're comforting , alright?). Oh, bloody _fuck_. SHITE!

I loathe Knockturn Alley. I loathe it for a reason, it has very dodgy inhabitants , including, thieving NIFFLERS! Those _bloody bastards_ will be so _buggered _, they wont know their _arse_ from their filthy _twats_! I promise you! I'm English , and if there's one thing we can do , it's our bloody quests!

OoO

"Good Merlin! Can anyone spare some change for a blind wizard?" I gripped at the empty ground in front of me. Have I mentioned my talent for dramatics? Nay? Well now I have.

"Cant's you just charm your eyes back to normal, _wizard_?"

"You bloody unsympathetic bastard!" I made a grab for the boys throat, he looked like he'd just begun Hogwarts. Cocky kids , If _I _was teaching there, they'd realize they had nothing to boast about. With the exception of their microscopic willys.

His mother grabbed his head before I had a chance to twist it off his shoulders. Bugger.

"_What are you doing?_" she screeched, petting the kid's abnormally round head as he squeaked in fear.

I started grabbing the ground before me "I'm just trying to survive, mam. Your small and pathetically endowed girl—"

"Boy—"

"It's of no consequence. She tried to steal me hat."

"You have no hat you blind _fool_" she spat , viciously I might add, her toxic saliva made indentations in my cheeks.

"I have not?" I said meekly , feeling the cobbled street around me, "Your daughter—"

"Son—"

"Must've stolen it!" I tell you my brilliance sometimes scares me, I started screeching in pain like a wounded alley kneazel , and the woman started looking about her and exclaiming loudly about the honor and credibility of her ancient family. As well as the ridiculousness of the idea of her son Billy (rich and handsome despite his early age)would steal a beggar's hat! She pressed her unpleasant son to her skinny breast as people started to gather. I made no comment on the amount of audience( though I did start yelling a bit more loudly) I was blind at the time.

"—He's a wonderful son, and devoted Quidditch player—"

"LIES! Filthy lies! The thieving lass stole my month's savings!"

"I thought you said he stole your hat—"

"They were in the hat!" I added quickly , praising my immense brain quietly.

"Fine! _Fine!_" she reached into her purse "Here!" she threw a couple coins onto the ground , grabbing the pouting child by the neck and dragging him away. Ha, James Potter, con-man extraordinaire. Please , control your appraisal until after the show.

I pulled my sunglasses off and buried them in my hair, they were pink and frilly , and occasionally they buzzed with sound ("Lookin' Good Girlie!") but I couldn't complain, I'd just stolen them a couple minutes before from a lass's pink and frilly and occasionally buzzing purse. I counted the coins , my eyes blinking in disbelief.

"Seven _Sickles!_" I whispered "_SEVEN SICKLES_!" a bit more loudly.

"How can you expect me to _survive_ you cheap _Heffner_?" I yelled at the woman, throwing rocks , cats and small children at her retreating back.

" YOU JUST KEEP RUNNING!"

My third day in Knockturn Alley. It's been complete bollocks. Begging by day, whoring by night. I think I've run into a couple of mum's old friends, couldn't be sure though, there's been way too many. I even got into a fight with that bloody squib yesterday 'cause she said I was standing on _her_ corner, and I says , what are you , Bloody Morgana reincarnated? She says she's not , but that I still had to get off her corner. Bloody squib, I think she likes getting smacked. I took her money again, which got stolen this morning , so I wasn't lying completely when I said I didn't have my savings. They just weren't in a hat. Hahaha, brilliant.

Which brings me back to my current predicament. I don't have enough bleeding money to _ feed _ myself.

" Aren't you supposed to be blind?"

Bloody cocky pre-adolescents .

"Erm…..Oh, Merlin! I can see! Thank Agrippa! Praise Magic!"

"I gave you two sickles!"

"And Merlin will praise your kindness good sir, as well as my stomach."

"Give 'em back, you thieving wanker!"

"NEVER!" I ran up the cobbled alley , dodging dodgy characters with a lack of ease and grace. But I'm male and that's excuse enough for my deficiency in those departments. Up I went and finally out of the soot-covered storefronts and miniature drug dealer headquarters and into Diagon Alley. I was running very quickly , people streaming past ( or perhaps that was because they were running too) , and finally the cries of hurt arrogance and cheap-ary were lost in the Hogwarts crowd. I was still running.

I was gaily sprinting past Gringotts like a gazelle inhaling Nitrous Oxide , when I pushed down a light body with an almighty roar of manliness (you can tell I'm being sarcastic, right?)

"Sorry." I grumbled "I'm sorry you had to be a blind bastard getting in my way!" I quickly got up , cursing the man and feeling my robes for my wand.

"Mister Potter?"

" Dumbledore?" I squeaked "Shite"

Dumbledore raised a brow and nearly looked indignant but his expression quickly returned to the normal placid and somewhat amused look , which I was glad for.

"Would you be so kind as to help me up Mister Potter?"

"Ahh , of course , professor" he grabbed my hand and I tugged on it strongly, he staggered a bit , then smoothed out his robes.

"I've been looking for you everywhere , Mister Potter"

I must've looked willy-smacked because he chuckled in that you-foolish-child-I-am-so-much-superior-to-your-minute-brain way and motioned for me to follow him. As we got out of the middle of the alley , I saw an angry mob of shady personas stream past. I smirked. Damn, I am one lucky dog—stag.

"Would you join me for an early tea? I have a preposition for you" he smiled , as if saying _Go on, ask , It'll just make me look smarter when I deny you the knowledge_.

I smiled widely , my stomach flipping in joy. Finally I found my wand and performed a quick cleaning spell on my robes (and myself), then replied,

"Sure, that'd be lovely Professor" all I was missing were the angelic golden locks and halo (not to mention the actual good intentions).

**Sup. How'd you enjoy the last batch of virtual condoms? Useful? Good. I have a stash somewhere in my virtual universe, I _could_ give you some, if you asked politely, kissed my toes and reviewed.**


	3. Somewhat Rash

**Somewhat Rash**

**AN: Yea, I'm back, it's not your imagination. **

Dumbledore is sitting across from me. It's a strange sensation, having this man examine me all over again, like a thoroughly chewed gum wad imbedded onto his robes. Even stranger still, is the fact that he's chosen the most uncomfortable place to have a discussion, between men , I mean, heterosexual men….or so I'm inclined to believe. I've always thought of Dumbledore as sort of….asexual, you know , as if …well, put it this way, if he'd ever made a porno film , his genitalia would be this disturbing vortex sort-of-thing, like a portal.

Bugger, he's talking. It looks as if he's been doing it for a while, shite, shite, shite. What was it he said he wanted to talk to me about? Pure bollocks , no doubt. Keep the interested expression, James, don't let it drop , or he'll curse me and I'll end up being a toasted load of bird-shite with a schizophrenic personality. He had a proposition, that's it! Now all I have to do is—what's that?

Oh, Merlin that is disgusting! I think it's moving, might be an animal. Perhaps Dumbledore's not as brilliant as I believed him to be , anyone can notice a humongous gob of—whatever it is—in one's teeth. It's all purple and gurgling, I think it's talking. Oh Merlin I'm confused. Is it Dumbledore talking or his glob? Bloody hell, nothing's ever easy!

OOOhhh! Tea!

"…..it's all pretty simple" Dumbledore picked up a coffee cake and started munching on it….he reminds me of a chipmunk…how odd.

Where's my tea? Who do I have to fucking drill open to get a bloody cup of—

"Anyone order a bit of Earl Grey?" the waitress winked in my general direction (either that or she had a very peculiar twitch) "sugar?"

"Huh?" I know, witty, correct?

"Would you like some sugar, luv?"

"Uhh…sure" she giggled some more, making her massive chest rise and fall with the force of a cannon. I can't bloody believe it , I look like a bum, and the female population still flocks to me.

The waitress wasn't particularly attractive, with the exception of her colossal chest and extraordinarily neon fingernails , there wasn't much worth mentioning. However, considering what (or rather who) I've been getting myself into lately , she was bloody Aphrodite (if a bit more round and bubbly).

She returned with the sugar and winked repeatedly, 'subtly' signaling the dingy bathroom. Oh, hell , what've I got to loose? I'll make some money, and rid myself of the less than appetizing company.

I nodded. She giggled , I think she hit her chin on her left boob, it seemed slightly larger than the right. She swung her hips dangerously to the bathroom , knocking over a few advertisements and colleagues, managing to apologize and tip something else over simultaneously. So she's missing a few human functions, and what? Last night's dinner cost me a lifetime of trauma. She was the size of an impregnated manatee and had the disposition of a bitch in labor, even after I shagged her.

"…the pay's great, or at least it's more than you're making—"

"Uh, Excuse me sir, it seems those scones have a rather strong effect on my weak stomach"

"The scones? But you haven't had any"

"Well, sir , to be frank, it's watching you eat them that's causing my illness" come on , it wasn't that bad, what I really said was "It must've been the early breakfast , then" what, licking the cobblestones for ancient dirt is highly toxic? That's pure bollocks alright , _pure bollocks_.

"Well, off you go then, good sir" Dumbledore looked amused "Forward to your valiant quest!"

He's such a bleeding psychotic, really, I mean , who takes an old student to a 'couples only' muggle pub in mid-London? Dumbledore, obviously.

OoO

"_You want me to pay you?_" Birds are so strange , you ever notice how they always repeat the shite you just said , as if we'd forget or never knew what we were saying in the first place? _I_ noticed, but of course , I'm me and you're….stale.

"Yes"

"But , _why_?" she's so…how can I put it? She's annoying but it's more than that, her voice is like a bleeding newborn on helium with it's diminutive toe squashed in a door(which is causing the thing pain and in turn, causing it to squeal.)

"I'm hungry."

"I could give you food luv—"

"No, galleons. Look Emilia—"

"Emmeline"

"Whatever. Listen, I need the money so if you would please—"

"Excuse me, _excuse me_. I'm still trying to get over the fact that _you _want _me _to pay _you_ for—for…umm.."

"A shag?"

"Shhhhh!" her fat finger flew to her mouth as if chased by wildfire "You're so vulgar!"

Ugh, I loathe hypocrites, especially if they're female, I feel like everything that comes out of their mouths is dung , loads of dung-caked hypocrisy.

"Listen knockers—" insert dramatic gasp from the viper-heifer in the left corner " You didn't seem to mind my vulgarity some five minutes ago—"

"Well-well- you watch, I'll tell the manager!"

"What exactly?" I scoffed "That _you_ led one of the customers to the bathroom , that _you_ initiated in promiscuous (look, large word) behavior and that _you_, my lovingly developed cow , preceded to remove your knickers with ease?"

"Bastard!"

"No, I was conceived in marriage , thank you"

OoO

"I'll get the bill , sir"

"No Mister Potter, I invited , it would be blasphemous to let you pay"

"But I have money—" three guesses where that came from , eh?

"Good. Keep it. You'll need it for the journey. And your supplies of course." Dumbledore looked startled for a second , as if he'd made a hasty decision and said "Or am I too presumptuous in saying you accept the position?"

Now , here's the question. Do I accept , not knowing what exactly I'm agreeing to , but assuring my survival? Or do I risk my pride and ask?

"I accept sir" It was more than a bit obvious that my ego likes its high stance in the atmosphere mates, that's never going to change.

OoO

There are times where my self esteem is submerged miles below sea level , in these pathetic and generally dismal moments , I am inclined to believe I have a flaw. WAM! It's a shocker innit?

What would make me think such treacherous thoughts? Well…you see lovey….the fact that I just crossed platform nine and three quarters for the _EIGHTH_ time, might have something to do with it , or perhaps that I am now surrounded by bloody miniscule bogey-ample _students_ . I am in severe need of a shot , or a shag , whichever is more convenient.

Oh bollocks , there's that Billy-bastard and his mother. Yes, they remember me. Bloody idiotic woman, she didn't need to dodge behind her kid, I can't aim correctly from way back here. Sigh.

It almost makes me believe I've been….dare I say it ….a bit _rash_. Merlin , it burns my tongue to think it , what would my ancient mum have said now , her son desperate and somewhat sexually frustrated?

_James Harold Potter, if I have to hear another uttered word of self pity I will personally detach your testicles from their convenient placement! And disfigure you , disfigure I say! What happened to the Potter pride? Is there even an ounce left inside your ego-maniacal testosterone powered genitalia worshipping shell of a butter-beer-deadened body? I am ashamed to even mention you as a Potter—_

"Oi! Watch it!" what? Am I really that hard to see in a river of midget circus performers?

Then I saw her, bloody goddess if I had my say in it. A sheet of lovely (_lovely?)_ red hair , vibrant green eyes, three cronies , two stalkers and some scattered real friends flanked her sides. However, she had to shatter it all by opening her mouth.

"Oh yea? 'Choo goin' to do 'bout it , _prude_?" she smirked. Did _she_ just call _me_ a…_prude_?

"Yeeeeeaaaa" contributed cronie numero toi , bloody cow.

She snapped her fingers , throwing a smoldering glare at her left flank "Stuff it , Dorcas"

"S-s-sure boss"

So she's taken my place as Hogwarts royalty. Dear Agrippa , this place's gone to the dogs.

"Did you just call me a bloody _prude_?"

"Yea" she curled her fingers and examined her bitten fingernails "And?"

"Yeaaaaaaa, and?"

"Dorcas!" she snapped , loosing the cool composure and accent " What did I just say?"

"S-s—ssorry boss"

I don't believe short people should be so bloody cocky, they have no advantages, I could bloody step on this pubescent whore before she could offer a shag in repent. I glared, imagining her head exploding beneath my dingy trainers.

" I wouldn't be so fresh with me, _Pipi_" I sneered "I _am_ your new DADA professor" Silly me , did I forget? I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I was better off whoring, I mean , look at these birds , all psychotic and illegal, how's a bloke supposed to survive?

She blinked , twice , her cronies swallowed loudly and her friends were still smirking superiorly at me from her sides.

" 's Lily, _prude_" she chuckled, tugging on the collar of her _Clash_ shirt "You look like the type 'o prof 'oo needs a good long wank, eh?"

Well, she can certainly understand me.

"Nooo" I shook my head , though I doubt anything I said would've stopped her bloody posse from laughing.

"Inee a sad-lookin' bloke, Marlene?" she said to one of her friends " Some DADA Prof"

"Shut up , you!" I screeched , making some surrounding midgets tumble and fall into the tracks , their parents bawling and occasionally celebrating , " I DEMAND RESPECT! I am Ja—"

"I see you are taking that approach , Mister Potter" It's a good thing Dumbledore interrupted when he did , or I would've been forced to attack and molest the bird in public, however, now I have the opportunity to spring upon her in a deserted corridor "That is all well and good. It usually takes some time before new Professors get a teaching style—"

"_Potter?_" that was the cocky cockney " As in , _James Potter?_"

I nodded , looking a bit confused. Have I underestimated my fame? Is it possible that I have become a universal sensation without my knowledge? Bloody hell! Call the Prophet, call my old pal Rita, call Witch Weekly and call me mum, I've reached super-stardom!

"Graduated three years ago?"

Oh, well. Nevermind, don't call me mum.

"Yes, Miss Evans. A Gryffindor as well , if my memory serves me correct"

"What is it , Pip—Lily?"

She started laughing, at first a low rumble , then an overwhelming cackle that shook the foundations of the platform, and if my eyes don't hallucinate on a regular basis (meaning not drug and/or alcoholic beverage induced) she pissed on herself as well.

"I remember you" she gasped , clutching at her ribcage "I _remember_ you"

**AN: So…whatcha fink? **

**Sadly I've run out of condoms, however, for those of you with an experimental spirit I have :**

_**ALL PURPOSE LUBRICANT **_

_**Greases Cars, Cures Colon Cancer , Even makes your wife tolerate you!**_

**Anyone interested?**


	4. Detentions For Vermin

**Detentions for Vermin**

**AN: No, this is not an update , it's all in your head.**

"….and then he started crying! Like a bloody banshee-spawn! He says—ahaha—he says 'Oh, Alice! Oh my darling Gal , why , why!' and then this _HUGE_ and I mean _sodding_ _humongous_ bogey just slides out of his nostril—" She laughs. "Aha hahhahahhahah hahahh—"

"Just give it up already, Pipi!" Please Merlin, this is the fiftieth bloody time, is there no sodding mercy, huh? " Doesn't the story get bloody old!" So I admit , it's a bit strange, watching a handsome and rugged fellow like myself yelling across my compartment and into the adjacent one at a couple of preadolescents, but she asked for it! I don't even _remember_ that bloody incident.

"No" she sneers "It doesn't , _Professor_"

"Oh, hush up , you" Of course this isn't what I _really_ said , but I imagine the immense force of such anger would melt your brains, making a rather detestable puddle of useless fluids around your carpet, and no one wants that(it's an impossible stain, that is.)

Anyway, it shut her up, her great sperm-whale sized mouth scrunched up in a unbecoming scowl , or perhaps it was in shock , but do I care? Nay.

"Now Mister Kevin, was it?"

"It's _Miss Evans_ you codge—"

"It seems your rather loud cackling is disturbing my sensitive ears,"

"So _what_—"

"I'm afraid I must assign a detention to fix this problem of yours, Sir Kevin"

"A _detention? _You _bloody pompous bastard_—"

" Now boy, here's a word of advice, from a friend to a…uh…_pest_, learn some manners, and respect your teachers"

She snorted , that sodding cow had the nerve to snort in my face " That's a bit 'o hypocrisy , innit? Coming from _you_ of all people"

"Oh dear, perhaps another detention will straighten out those twisted beliefs of yours, Kevin"

"_Evans _, you—you—Agh!"

"Oh that's right!" I adore the fact that my ability to destroy the wit of all and any form of female has remained intact throughout all this time "Your name's Kevin Evans , how rude of me"

"These cheap jokes are getting old rather quickly , _sir_" She's so bloody _annoying_! What with her mocking tones and snickering posse , don't those codgers have lives?

"And your accent seems to have an expiration date, _Miss_" Agrippa, I'm brilliant! Utterly mind-bogging, I hadn't even thought of that—well I guess I must've , but hey it was quick thinking, eh?

Then the ghastly (but somewhat attractive) spawn of whoring demons does something that is quite…..uh….feminine and odd for such an unlikely candidate. She blushes.

Her posse quiets as they realize that I _am _right and that the posing cockney is no longer sneering, it's an amusing sight. The girl from before whose voice resembled a nasal McGonagall was looking longingly at each individual as if begging for any meager phrase she could echo, what was her name? Dorky? Whatever. The rest weren't much better , but they kept their sneers in place at least to keep up appearances.

"Well—well that's bull—"

"SHITAKE MUSHROOMS!" The trolley-witch (I call her that for more than just her occupation , the poor dear _does _have a rather uncanny resemblance to her trolley, with her colossal ars—

"Arsenic! No dear, I have none of that. However I have a vast collection of shit—"

"OW!"

"Ooh! I'm sorry dear I really should watch myself when I turn corners—" she narrowed her eyes as they landed on me , holding onto the now crippled leg she'd pulverized with her massive…uh…cheeks.

"James Potter!" her nostrils enlarged , letting out a vast cloud of thick smoke "I thought I was done with _you_!"

Lily chuckled , I turned my head towards her and barked " Shut up , you! I don't want to hear—"

"DON'T SHOUT AT THE STUDENTS!" the trolley-witch screeched "I suppose Sirius Black (she spat this part with more viciousness than an acid pop) is here with you as well"

"Umm—uh , I mean…no mam" I sighed , fruitlessly attempting to meek-ify myself (which is a rather impossible task, I might add , since my handsomely-ness is so immense that even if I _was_ meek , no one would believe me ) "He—uh—has a j-job"

"And you don't?" she hissed "I suppose you've come to beg for work , then?"

"I-I have—"

"Well I'm _sorry_ to say (of course this was said in a tone that suggested she felt nothing of those remorseful emotions) that the last opening was filled about three days ago" she smirked , "What a shame."

Cordelia (trolley-witch) turned back to Evans, (whom was wearing a painful-looking smirk on her mug) "Now dear, would you like some of these?" she inclined the plate in her hand to show her the 'food' that more looked like wads of fried dung predating Merlin.

"Uh…" the adolescent demon articulated " Don't you have anything else?"

"What? You don't like these?"

"No! No , it's not that." She put her hand on the elder witch's forearm "It's just uh….I'm craving some pumpkin pastries"

"Oh, well then, here you go dear. Last ones"

"Oi! Wait!"

"_What_?"

"Uh-uh well I-I j-just—"

"Dearie, with diction like _that_, you would've _never_ gotten a job here"

"But I _did_!"

"What do you mean by _that_?"

"I'm the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

"Really?" I nodded , watching her look more and more disheartened by the second "Oh , bollocks"

Gasp. "Cordelia!"

"Shut up Mister Potter. I'm only going to deal with you twice a year" she began wagging her index finger in front of my face " In that time I want no more rhymes, ballads, songs or poems dedicated to my rather large lower-backside anatomy, got it?"

"Yes, Cordelia. But what about—"

"No clever jigs either. Here, eat." She sighed , tossing a plate of 'mushrooms' in my direction.

"Thanks."

The elderly woman narrowed her eyes and sighed again, turning back to the opposite compartment where Evans was sitting with the rest of her posse.

"Bye dears."

"Bye Cordelia!" they chorused, identical angelic smiles plastered across every imitation-cockney cheek.

Sigh. Bloody hypocrites.

I closed the compartment door, surveying the plate across my seat with a somewhat disgusted and curious expression. It started mewing. For some odd minutes I pondered on the question that had me most puzzled, should these so called 'shitake' mushrooms mew so contently? I did not know , (Gasp as you will , you must understand I do not know _everything_) for the nature of these 'vegetables' was unfamiliar to me. However , I knew I was victim to some foul play when the burnt shit took flight to my calf and began to hump it vigorously.

Thump. Thump. Thumpitythumpthump. Mew.

"WHAT THE BLOODY SODDING HELL?"

Obviously, this is a bogus attempt by some love-sick fan to grab my attention. Pathetic. Don't they know I would be just as impressed if they had shown me their womanly features? Who would be idiotic enough to hex my bloody foo—

"EVANS!"

OoO

Her shoes squeaked on the corridor floor. I can't imagine why, they were bloody dirty, the floors not the shoes. There should not have been any sound but the swish of my cloak billowing around me in an attempt to expand my mysterious appeal and _my_ shiny new shoes _tapping_ on the floor.

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaak.

"For the love of Merlin's Y-fronts , Evans!"

"What?"

"Stop that malicious squeaking!"

Snicker. Snicker. Snicker.

Sigh.

I knew I should've never returned to this place. The fact that I was bloody _relieved_ when I walked out of Hogwarts as a graduate should've given me the best sodding clue , _Never return Potter, never!_ But I just _had_ to, didn't I? ' couldn't just shag sagging arses for a living, could I ? Oh nooo, James Potter has too much dignity for _that_!

"Professor Potter?"

"Uh-um…wha…oh , yes?" I ran a hand through my hair.

"Is there any particular reason you are wringing your cloak?"

"Oh, uh….no, Professor McGonagall. Just a tick, is all" I throw a stray glance at Evans and tighten my grip on the fabric.

She sneers . Cocky twat. Ahahaha ahahaha, pun.

"It's Minerva now , Mister Potter."

Ahhh, Minnie, she always had a soft spot for me , I was the Transfiguration prodigy after all.

"Sure Minnie." I give her my Quidditch-Marvel smile , bet you she's melting , go on , bet me, she'll be sneaking up to my rooms in an hour's time.

"_Minerva_!"

Right, well then, she's ancient anyway.

She smoothes back her immaculate bun, I suspect there must be some saliva expelling glands imbedded in her palms , I've seen her pull this move before , when her bun is disarrayed and in chaos (meaning some rebellious fringe has escaped the threshold), and all those freedom fighters _always_ return to normal circumstances.

"Was there something you wished to speak to me about , Professor?" Do I detect a hint of pride in that tone? Awwwww, _Minnie!_

"Yes actually, I wanted to know when it was possible for this young transsexual" I signaled Evans(whom looked shocked for some reason) "and her pets" I pointed out the pathetic codgers dodging behind a single midget Knight, "to begin their three detentions"

Minnies's eyes widened and she turned to Evans "You were a _man_?"

Evans shook her head passionately "No—never, Professor McGonagall"

I sighed "You can imagine he/she does not want this new to get around, Minnie"

She nodded absentmindedly "That I do" she smoothed her hair "It's Minerva"

"Of course"

"Oi! Wait, I am _not_ a man—"

"Of course you aren't dear" Minnie said quickly , murmuring out of the corner of her mouth "At least not anymore"

"I heard that!"

"Heard what , Miss Evans?"

She fumed silently .

Minnie turned to me , her expression neutral again "They can begin their detentions as soon as lessons commence. So, as of tomorrow"

"Thank you, uh…Minerva"

"It's my pleasure" she stated walking away a that brisk pace of hers until she seemed to remember something and turned back around with a steely gaze "I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Evans. You _are_ Head Girl after all" she looked behind the Knight and said "You too, erm..…students."

"Good Day , Minerva!"

………..

"Come underdeveloped, I shall escort you to the feast"

MUAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaha!

**AN:**

**Uh…. My stocks of condoms and lubricant are on hiatus due to their immense success in politician circles in the united states , so , I am getting them restocked. However, I have numerous piles of Kinky toys for you reviewers to try out!**

**Who wants a THUMPER 5000? **

**Well you won't get any unless you give me some form of feedback. I'm one tough dealer, mates.**


	5. A Merry Feast

**A _Merry_ Feast**

**AN: Boo! Yes, I fell of the edge of existence and died. But such petty things could never stop me.**

My first evening as a Hogwarts teacher consisted of many a pleasant virtue. One may call me sadistic, however, I prefer the term , 'Deprivation of mercy' or 'brutal' or perhaps even 'ruthless'. Sadism simply sounds as if I attempted to sexually harass my students .Which I did not. _Really_, believe me , I have _some_ class. Perhaps by the third or fourth date of my acquaintance I'll have my students against a wall panting and mad with lust, but, not at the moment.

I escorted the Pansy Prat Posse to the Great Hall by their ears and preceded to swat their bums with an invisible nightstick I'd purchased during my years at Hogwarts, such jolly fun. It was especially amusing, as they turned around constantly , searching for the weapon, or culprit , finding only me , glaring mercilessly and shoving them forward. Then as we arrived , I tripped the pissy-arsed phony cockney and charmed the back of her skirt so that it was hooked onto her backside and half the Hogwarts population could be allowed the pleasure of observing enormous knickers climb slowly up her arse. She didn't notice , and her friend Marle or Marlene or _whatever_ muttered a counter-curse before I had the chance to point it out to the teachers. Then, ignoring the stares , I walked up to the teacher's table and sat down.

I can remember , during my schooling years, my admiring glances upon the table. I always thought the golden utensils, attractive nosh and intellectual company would stimulate the gears of my brain into action and I would realize my purpose (and stop ejaculating at regular intervals ( well—stop looking at me like _that_—I was _eleven_ , what control—if any—was expected of me?)) . However, once you reach those 'untouchable' places (and no, darlings , I do not mean your arse-holes) , you find that miniscule things may undermine their glowing halos. In my case , it was the fact that the food Professor Slughorn seemed to be shoving in inconspicuous amounts into his gaping trap was not—unfortunately for those of us whom were in line of vision—staying there but, quite stubbornly, flying about in every other conceivable direction.

"Jammmmesss, m'boy!" Splat! Well, sure, I'd like some potatoes on my face.

"Hello, Professor Slughorn." My tone was less than enthusiastic.

He swallowed, some of my now colleagues lowered their wand s and protective napkin shields , sighing gratefully.

"No, no, no, m'boy! I'm now Horace to _you_!" he replied cheerfully , paying no mind whatsoever that I was not(as he obviously believed me to be) watching his face interestedly but, watching his five chins slide and wobble over some mind-bogging amounts of mint jelly.

"Oh! Oh, well what an _honor_ it is, sir!" I said after a minute or so " I've never been on casual terms with my educators…." I trailed off, realizing what a bollocks statement that was. The other professors did too, however, no one said a word, and the walrus continued his jolly meal.

Who _didn't_ know about Caroline Botanique and myself? Few were spared from the intimate details of our relationship, short as it was.

For some strange reason I do not pretend to understand, I was still attending Herbology during sixth year. Dear Professor Sprout had been bitten recently by her Drangonsblossom plant and for two days the class had been a free period. In other more simplistic words, TOTAL CHAOS. Dumbledore realized we were not making good use of our time and (despite our fervent protests ) hired a substitute Professor.

Sweet little Caroline Botanique , fresh out of Beuxbatons , and with the disposition of a French Maid, was hurtled head-first into a class half-full of randy male adolescents .

At the time , I though Dumbledore a fool.

Anyway, to make a long tale short, by the third day of class I had her bent over some pots of Mandrake , screeching some rubbish on protective gloves upon her arse (some daft fantasy of hers').

For a month, I had the little charade going, which was surprising , considering the longest I'd been in a 'relationship' with a bird so far had been two weeks. It must've been the accent that kept me interested. Until, finally, we were caught.

"Professor McGonagall?" she called softly from the door.

"Yes, what is it Caroline?" Minnie made it a point to call _mon petit Caroline_ by her first name.

"May I 'ave Mister Potter pleaze?" she flung her hair over her shoulder " It zis a matter _d'importance grave_"

"Oh _really_?" McGonagall huffed " How many matters of _grave importance_ must happen this week?"

"Um….Zis abou' 'is grand-père!" she said desperately.

"Do you mean the one whom was attacked, mugged and _murdered_ last week?" Minnie snapped , giving me a dangerous glare.

"Ahh…non. Zis is ze one on 'is mother' side" the class snickered , and Caroline smiled as if re-encouraged. Did I mention she was barely smarter than a pretty rock?

"Well then , Mister Potter, _I _will escort you to Professor Dumbledore's office. Caroline, take care of the class until I return , will you?"

It wasn't really a question , considering the fact that we were out of the classroom before she finished the sentence.

Need I say more?

The ending fact is that Minnie told on us when we got to Dumbledore's office , leaving me 'speechless', 'shocked' and 'offended'. Then of course they called Caroline in and she confessed everything, including some added bits about a force-fed love potion and some ' dark spell-work' on my part. In which part _I_ jumped in , (actually offended) and proclaimed "I don't need bloody love potions and spell-work, those are petty weapons for unattractive people such as yourself. If anything, you should be _thanking_ me".

Ahh, good times, good times.

Slughorn had stopped talking , his mouth clamped shut and his pig-like little eyes, merrily observing his most favored students, otherwise known as the 'Slug Club'. I have some pity for those select few, in my day , the only members of the Slug Club were a scattered academically inapt boys, with pretty bums and angel-faces. However, that must've changed , since I recall Dumbledore threatening to cancel the 'meetings' if he did not pick academically successful students over the age of eleven. I believe Slughorn grudgingly accented, though he still held small parties now and then for his 'Senior Members'. Pity.

Huh, such depressing thoughts on such a merry night, how ludicrous! James Potter is not one to botch joyful occasions, if only something interesting would happen! Please! It'll only be then that I'll stop reminiscing! Why are all these kids so attentive? It's like a bloody morgue in here! _Oohohohoh, shudder_. Let me change that phrase , 'It's like a _ruddy_ morgue in here!' , see , much more acceptable, it's phrases like that that cause my mental deconstruction to accelerate.

Oh! Dumbledore's talking. No wonder, the mummy's got loads of attention , and James Potter only receives stray glances from the few Quidditch fanatics that thought they saw me announced as a Chaser, but can't remember correctly. Sigh.

"You must all be wary of your surroundings at all times…" Blah.Blah.Blah. "….would like to warn you all of the dangers of Voldermort…" few scattered gasp there….wait. I don't care. "Finally, on a lighter nte. We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, James Potter."

Why is everyone bloody looking at me now? Can't they bloody see I'm trying to take a _sodding_ nap?

Oh. Right_. Bugger_.

I stand up, and Dumbledore seems relieved. The applause is loudest from the seventh-years. It seems they remember me. Joy.

"Now he will say a few words" he points to the podium…._bugger_. You notice all the shit I have to deal with, constantly? Someone of my superior appearance should be fed bloody berries at all times by a voluptuous female who's aforementioned breasts block my vision as they are so huge , they will be my salvation and obscure all outside influences , and I will no longer be bothered by petty matters such as teaching and sodding speeches.

I'm in front of the podium….so Jamie…..it seems you must wing it , as usual.

"Hehehheh…." Sooo, the nervous laughter is a start , but perhaps one aught to articulate a bit more. "Well, I have a few lessons prepared for you…._ladies_" they giggled. All of them! It's amazing that with one simple amusing phrase I have three fourths of the male population loathing me. The other fourth? They seem to be longingly looking in my direction.

"Cocky Sod!"

Who else but Evans?

"Don't despair Miss uh….Evans, was it? You can join the other ladies during lessons, despite your resemblance to the male gender"

Most of the Great Hall laughed appreciatively, I'm brilliant. I know, you aren't so…don't talk to me.

"I bear no resemblance to the male gender!" she yelled at me, standing on her table and glaring furiously , hahaha…she is so marvelously …_endearing_. "I can say the same for you" she added , smirking superiorly.

Ha, now most of the females glared in her direction. That's the price for obscuring my godly aura with meaningless insults.

"I'll choose to ignore that statement, after all, Miss Evans is still under the influence of a heavy dosage of mental-medication. Now ladies, and uh…_boys_" more scowls " I'll be sure to make lessons as _entertaining_ as possible for you" Throw in a pinch of sexual innuendo and they all blush and giggle.

"Oh and I'm _sure _those will be _awful fun_" Evans commented loudly.

"You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit"

"I know." She smirked "But I think they were being sarcastic."

Evans gets me angry. How is it that a bloody seventh-year can continue a conversation with me , without being outwitted? I am the Great James Potter! If anything, they should change my last name to Bond, I'm _that_ extraordinary. But this puny ,pathetic red-head is not affected by that whatsoever!

Am I loosing my touch?

"Well, I believe that's been enough for one evening," Dumbledore shoved me gently from the podium, and I sent one last glare at Evans (whose only visible feature was her nose sniffing the air in an obvious gloat). "You must all be starving. Well then , let me not keep you any longer. Tuck in."

Oh yes, there will be revenge.

(On my part fools, _I _will get my revenge!)

**AN: **

**THUMPER was an immense success . And the condoms and lubricant are restocked, so I have much to offer. I imagine my customer's virtual sex-lives are in the epitomes of Triumph, and that makes me happy.**

**Politicians all over the U.S. are becoming virtuous, blaming their earlier corruption on sexual frustration, wouldn't you like to be a part of the revolution?**

**Request in the form of reviews! **

**Good night and good romps!**


End file.
